


Kodachrome

by fypical



Series: The Sabriel Week Snippets [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-01
Updated: 2012-04-01
Packaged: 2017-11-02 21:25:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fypical/pseuds/fypical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel likes taking pictures of Sam. Sam doesn't mind, much. But sleep is pretty important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kodachrome

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt Fill for an Anon on Tumblr. Title is from Paul Simon's "Kodachrome".

Sam has no idea where Gabriel got the camera from, or when he learned how to use it – thousands of years on Earth or no, Gabriel’s still kind of endearingly perplexed by most technology – but he’s starting to regret not taking it from Gabriel sooner.

It started off pretty innocently, or at least as innocent as Gabriel can get: flashes and laughter while Sam’s in the shower, the sound of a shutter while he’s researching on whatever it is they’re hunting these days – small things, because apparently when you lock up the Apocalypse and dust God’s sea beasts, there aren’t many big bads left – but it gets more and more prevalent each time Gabriel snaps into the hotel room.

It comes to a head, as it were, when Sam wakes up in the middle of the night to see Gabriel standing at the foot of his bed. It’s, weirdly, not an uncommon thing, especially not since the fourth time is apparently the charm for Dean Winchester to get his ass in gear, relationship wise, and get it together with Cas and get a separate hotel room. But Gabriel had been watching Sam sleep ever since he first showed up (again) in their lives, but this is the first time he’s had a camera in his hands while doing so.

“Wh-?” Sam mumbles, sleepy, and Gabriel starts like he hasn’t been watching Sam the whole time. Sam rubs his eyes, probably looking like an oversized five year-old and thinks he can see Gabriel smile in the dark. It’s so _not_ a weird thing for Sam anymore that it’s almost gone all the way back around to being weird; they’ve been doing this dance around each other for weeks, now, where Gabriel shows up at inappropriate times and makes inappropriate comments and Sam lets him.

“Oh, hey Sam,” Gabriel says, super casual, like he isn’t taking pictures of people while they sleep.

“Dude, you’re a _stalker_ ,” Sam grumbles, and maybe it’s the dark room, but Gabriel looks almost sheepish, and snaps the camera out of existence before perching on the edge of the bed.

“Go back to sleep, Sam,” he says quietly. “Promise I won’t take any more pictures of you. Tonight, at least.”

Sam makes a frustrated noise, because Gabriel gets weirdly insulted about some things, even if they’re not meant as insults. Sam really doesn’t mind having his own angel – because there’s no way in hell or high water Gabriel’s _Dean’s_ angel, they’re at each other’s throats too much – and he doesn’t really care about the picture-taking, either.

He’s getting kind of sick of the will-we-won’t-we song and dance, though.

“Do you ever sleep?” he asks, because aside from the one time Dick Roman knocked Gabriel on his ass – and got a face full of floor cleaner for his trouble, but that’s beside the point – Sam hasn’t actually ever seen Gabriel stop moving.

Gabriel shrugs. “Don’t have to,” but there’s something missing there, something Gabriel isn’t saying.

“Do you _want_ to?” Sam asks, and Gabriel turns to look at him, eyes strangely bright in the dark.

“What are you asking?” he  retorts and Sam’s going to smother himself with a pillow if Gabriel doesn’t stop being so difficult.

“Come _here_ ,” and he really doesn’t mean to snarl, but it’s late or early or something and Gabriel is extra frustrating when Sam’s tired. He takes a breath and tries again.

“Come sleep,” he says. Gabriel laughs, quiet and low in his throat, and shakes his head.

“I’m good,” he says, but gets up and walks around to where Sam is half-lying, half-sitting.

“Thanks though, I mean it,” Gabriel murmurs, and Sam wonders if Gabriel’s going to kiss him, but Gabriel just pushes a strand of hair out of Sam’s eyes and then is gone with the strange flutter-crack of wings.

Sam groans and flops back onto the pillows. It takes him a solid hour to get back to sleep.

When he wakes up, there’s an envelope on the bedside table. Sam doesn’t need to open it to know it’s full of pictures, probably of him.

On the envelope is marked, in blue sharpie, **_Next Time, Sam_**.

Sam’s pretty okay with that, actually.


End file.
